


Elephant in the Room

by bubbleteafics



Category: Topp Dogg (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Multi, OT3, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleteafics/pseuds/bubbleteafics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an elephant in the room that nobody is willing to address.</p>
<p>Until it's already too late.</p>
<p>The resulting conclusion is an explosion of too many repressed sexual feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elephant in the Room

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless plotless porn...

It all starts with Seokjin’s incessant desire to get as wasted as possible in honor of the finishing of finals week.

“Come on you guys,” Seokjin bounces up and down on the balls of his feet. “Let’s go do something fun. Stop being grandpas!”

“It all depends on how you define the concept of fun,” Hyosang replies, eyes still glued to the television screen where Namjoon is currently beating him at Super Smash Brothers.

Namjoon snorts, violently pressing down on the buttons of his controller.

Hyosang grunts in mild irritation as his Link goes flying out of the arena, flinging himself back onto the couch and mumbling about cheating bastards and unfair advantages.

“See! You lost. Take that as a sign and let’s go get drunk!” Seokjin suggests, bounding across the living room and pouncing onto Hyosang’s lap. “Come on! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

Namjoon slowly rises from the couch, subtly trying to make his exit. But Seokjin is faster.

“Where do you think _you’re_ going?”  Seokjin’s hand shoots out and grabs a fistful of Namjoon’s t-shirt.

“Well, I was _going_ to go make myself something to eat,” Namjoon says slowly, attempting to twist away from Seokjin’s clutch. “But apparently not. What exactly do you want to do?”

“You can’t give in like that,” Hyosang groans, covering his face with his hands.

Namjoon shrugs, still caught in the vicelike grip.

“Let’s go bar hopping!” Seokjin bounces up and down on Hyosang’s lap, still straddling his roommate’s waist. “Drink, drink, drink, drink!”

"It’s seven in the afternoon,” Hyosang huffs, head jerking under Seokjin’s continuously moving body.

“Drink, drink, drink, drink!”

“This is all _your_ fault,” Hyosang points an accusatory finger in Namjoon’s direction. “It was _your_ idea to triple. And he’s _your_ best friend.”

“Hey man, I was just trying to be economical,” Namjoon shrugs again, shoulders shaking with every one of Seokjin’s bounces. “At least we’re saving like five hundred bucks a month. Besides, he’s your best friend too.”

Hyosang sniffs, because there’s really no argument for that.

“Drink, drink, drink, drink!”

“Fine!” Hyosang throws his hands up in the air in surrender. “Fine! Okay, goddamn it! Just stop jumping already, I can’t breathe!”

“Yeah!”

\--

Half an hour later, twenty minutes of which were spent on trying to drag a whining Hyosang out of his room, the three roommates find themselves stationed at the bar of a fairly packed establishment not so far from their apartment, less than a ten minute walk on foot.

“So, what can I get for you boys?” the bartender shouts over the pounding bass shaking the walls.

“What should we start with?” Namjoon asks, glancing at Seokjin and Hyosang for help.

“Let’s do tequila shots!” Seokjin cheers, thrusting his fists into the air.

Namjoon shoots Hyosang a look to confirm.

“What can it hurt,” Hyosang shrugs. “We’re already here and looking to get shitfaced anyways.”

Namjoon nods, turning back to the bartender and ordering three shots of Patron. Their drinks are passed around, a napkin full of limes and a saltshaker slid towards them.

“Cheers,” Seokjin sings. And they all clink their glasses together before downing their shots, licking their wrists, and sticking their lime wedges into their mouths.

“Ugh, so gross,” Hyosang grimaces as the liquor burns down his throat, instantaneously warming his insides.

“Word,” Namjoon cringes, shoulders shivering from the aftertaste as he sets down his glass.

“You guys are trippin’,” Seokjin says, wincing as he spits out his lime. “Tequila is man’s best friend.”

“You’re out of control," Hyosang laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Seokjin,” Namjoon raises a brow as Seokjin hails the bartender again. “The last time you got fucked on tequila, _I had to carry you home_. You spent the entire night on the bathroom floor."

“Best friend for making bad choices and embarrassing mistakes then,” Seokjin corrects himself, and his roommates roll their eyes in sync.

“You are impossible,” Hyosang grins in amusement. “I remember that night. I had a paper due the next day, and I spent a good half of that time making sure you didn’t drown in the toilet bowl.”

“I helped man,” Namjoon pouts.

“You passed the fuck out,” Hyosang points a finger across Seokjin and jabs Namjoon in the shoulder.

“Did not,” Namjoon and Hyosang bicker, throwing small insults back and forth while Seokjin orders another round of drinks.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And another until the entire world is starting to tilt on its axes, the floor trying to slip away from under their feet as Seokjin throws his arms around his roommates beside him, locking them into a chokehold with their cheeks pressed into his chest.

“I love you guys,” Seokjin sways, rubbing his cheek on the crown of Namjoon’s and Hyosang’s heads. “No homo, but really. I love you guys.”

“You’re drunk,” Namjoon blinks, gazing up through one open eye.

“I think we’re all drunk,” Hyosang states, clawing at Seokjin’s side for release. “Seokjin, I can’t breathe.”

“Too bad!” Seokjin smiles, glancing down at Hyosang’s irritated face, his vision going a little fuzzy around the edges.

And he’s not exactly sure what makes him do it, or where the sudden magnetic pull even came from, but Seokjin finds himself leaning down, eyelids fluttering shut as he presses his mouth against Hyosang’s warm, soft lips.

At first, Hyosang tries to jerk away from surprise, twisting underneath Seokjin’s arm. But his grip is firm, locking Hyosang in place until he’s slowly melting into the kiss, the lingering smell and taste of alcohol making his head spin even more so.

The kiss is sloppy, wet, everything a drunk kiss should be with a confusion of tongues and insistent mouths moving every which way until Namjoon’s soft whine breaks Seokjin out of his daze.

“Let go,” Namjoon tries to slip his head out from underneath Seokjin’s heavy arm pressing down on his neck. But Seokjin merely holds on tighter, detaching himself from Hyosang’s mouth and moving onto latch onto Namjoon’s.

Namjoon stops struggling long enough for Seokjin to remove his arm and pull him closer by fisting into the collar of Namjoon’s shirt. The other arm pinning Hyosang falls lax, hand sliding across his shoulder and back up to cradle Hyosang’s cheek.

And somewhere underneath the drunken haze impairing Seokjin’s better judgment, he can’t help but compare the two pairs of lips. If kissing Hyosang is like kissing cotton candy, all soft and gentle, Namjoon is like kissing marshmallows, just as fluffy, but a little more sturdy. Either way, Seokjin doesn’t think he can choose who he likes better.

An awkward cough from behind separates Seokjin from licking further into Namjoon’s mouth, eyes fluttering open and pulling away reluctantly. Glancing over his shoulder, Seokjin discovers a small queue of customers, still woefully sober, making an attempt to get to the bar while valiantly ignoring their make out session.

“I think it’s time to go,” Hyosang clears his throat, colors and shapes still swimming before his vision.

“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees, stumbling onto his feet with the help of Seokjin’s warm hand curled around his forearm.

Seokjin’s hands seek out Namjoon’s and Hyosang’s on either side, lacing fingers and pulling them out and away from the bar into the cold, crisp night.

“Hey,” Seokjin calls from the front, dragging Namjoon and Hyosang in a misshapen v-formaiton. “Which way’s home?”

“Oh my god,” Namjoon sighs, blinking through bleary eyes. “Please don’t tell me you don’t know.”

“Well, do _you_ know?” Seokjin sniffs, halting their procession at a street corner.

“You turn left,” Hyosang directs, staggering a few feet towards a street sign. “Yeah, see? This is Valley Avenue. We go left, and then right on Summer.”

“Smarty pants,” Seokjin continues pulling them in the direction that Hyosang just stated, swerving from one side of the sidewalk to the other.

One venture into a cluster of bushes and a shoulder bump into a street lamp later, Seokjin, Namjoon, and Hyosang finally manage to clamor up the stairs of their apartment.

“Sleepy,” Seokjin declares, kicking off his shoes and tossing them at random. He somehow manages to catch on his own feet, tripping over himself and bringing Namjoon down with him.

“Ow fuck,” Namjoon whines, clutching onto his side and rolling around in pain. “You nearly elbowed my crotch, damn it.”

Hyosang topples over laughing, Seokjin tackling him down to the floor and curling up on top of him.

“Come here,” Seokjin grabs onto a fistful of Namjoon’s shirt and drags him closer.

“We are not sleeping on the floor,” Hyosang says loudly, trying to crawl out from underneath. But Seokjin is heavy, and Hyosang is just not equipped for heavy duty physical labor at the moment. Namjoon is still too preoccupied with the pain in his lower abdomen to complain.

“Room too far,” Seokjin murmurs, already halfway towards unconsciousness.

“My foot is falling asleep,” Hyosang complains, wiggling his limbs.

“Good night.”

Namjoon still notices nothing.

\--

By the time they manage to untangle their locked limbs and peel themselves off the carpet the next day, it’s already three in the afternoon, and the sun is passing from its highest point in the sky.

Seokjin, Hyosang, and Namjoon sit around their small dining table, the darkest pair of sunglasses glued to each of their faces.

And clutching onto the pounding migraines of their hangovers, an unspoken pact is agreed upon that nobody will ever speak of what happened the night before. It is to be let go and forgotten, never to be brought up again under the penalty of pain and torture, and forking up three months of collective rent in place of the other two who don’t break the rules.

“I’m dying,” Hyosang grunts, splayed facedown across the table. “I need caffeine.”

“I say Seokjin makes us all coffee,” Namjoon suggests, slipping further down his chair. Seokjin splutters in indignation.

“ _Excuse me?_ Why me?”

“Because this is all _your_ fault,” Namjoon rolls his head to the side to stare pointedly at Seokjin, or aim his glance in his general direction anyway. His eyes are not exactly fully open at the moment.

“Yeah man,” Hyosang agrees, words muffled from his face pressed down on the table. “It was _your_ idea to go out last night. Namjoon and I were completely happy just-“

“Okay fine, fine,” Seokjin huffs, shooting up from his chair. “Oh my god.”

Bad idea. Seokjin’s stomach lurches from the momentum of moving too quickly, whatever stomach acid he hadn’t emptied in the last half hour gurgling furiously.

“Excuse me,” Seokjin manages to squeak before staggering for the bathroom, followed by the loud, echoing sound of retching and dry heaving.

“Oh my god,” Hyosang breathes heavily through his nose. The sound alone is making him feel queasy.

Namjoon sighs, slowly rising from the table. He makes his way towards the kitchen, pulling down a cup from the cabinet and filling it up with ice cold water from the fridge.

“You’re fine,” he ruffles Hyosang’s hair on his way passed, breathing deeply to settle his own stomach before making his way down the hall for the bathroom.

Namjoon finds Seokjin with his forehead glued to the toilet seat, eyes screwed shut and sweat clinging to his hairline.

“Here drink this,” Namjoon pulls Seokjin into a sitting position, rubbing soothing circles into the small of his back as Seokjin tries to swallow and keep the water down.

“Better?” Namjoon asks after Seokjin manages to down a good two thirds, setting the cup down on the floor and brush the damp hair away from his face. Seokjin nods, a pleased hum sounding in his throat as he leans into Namjoon’s touch.

“He okay?” Hyosang peeks in through the door, prepared to bounce at the first signs of more yacking.

“Yeah, he’s cool,” Namjoon replies, still rubbing comfortingly up and down Seokjin’s back. Hyosang enter the tiny bathroom cautiously, pulling off the hand towel from its rack and wetting it in the sink.

“You’re such a hot mess,” Hyosang sighs, bending down to press the damp cloth into Seokjin’s forehead. “What would you do without us?”

“Probably end up on the ten o’ clock news,” Seokjin murmurs, voice raspy and dry. “Inebriated college student found running the streets nude. Entire squad of local law enforcement needed to capture and detain.”

“You are ridiculous,” Namjoon laughs, pulling Seokjin onto his feet with Hyosang’s help. “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed. I don’t think you want to fall sleep on the bathroom floor.”

“Been there, done that,” Seokjin hums, wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s and Hyosang’s shoulders.

Hyosang rolls his eyes, Namjoon bursting into laughter again.

\--

_Although unspoken of and ignored, the elephant in the room is still there, lurking, waiting._

\--

“Hey, help me get that?” Hyosang calls out to the apartment at large, reaching up on tiptoes to grab a bowl from the cabinet.

“That’s you,” Seokjin glances at Namjoon briefly before turning back to the television. “We‘re the same height. If he can’t reach, I can’t reach.”

Namjoon sighs, hauling himself off the couch.

“What do you need?” he asks, stepping into the kitchen.

“That,” Hyosang points toward the stack of bowls. Namjoon nods, leaning over Hyosang’s shoulder to reach into the cabinet.

Hyosang can feel the warmth radiating out of Namjoon’s chest, bleeding through the fabric of his own shirt. Hyosang tries to swallow the lump caught in his throat, pulse racing just the tiniest bit.

_Is it getting hot in here?_

“Here,” Namjoon hands Hyosang the bowl, closing the cabinet.

“Thanks,” Hyosang breathes, watching Namjoon return to the living room and plop back down on the couch beside Seokjin. Hyosang blinks, perplexed. He suddenly doesn’t remember why he needed the bowl in the first place.

\--

_The elephant is getting restless, tension building._

\--

“Great,” Seokjin sighs, glaring at the empty sink space that should hold his neatly folded clothes for the day. “That’s just great.”

He tries to remember if he’d brought them into the bathroom with him, but he can’t recall.

“Good going Kim Seokjin,” he shakes his head, wrapping his towel around his waist and unlocking the bathroom door.

Well, no one’s supposed to be home anyways. Hyosang went to go meet up with some other friends, and Namjoon headed out for the gym just a few hours ago. So Seokjin doesn’t think anything further of it, marching straight for their shared bedroom and swinging the door open.

“There it is,” Seokjin grabs his clothes set neatly on the upper half of the bunk bed he shares with Hyosang, Namjoon having his own bed beside theirs.

Seokjin drops his towel onto the floor, stretching out his muscles and just enjoying the rare privacy of having the apartment to himself.

A loud beep echoes into the room, indicating a new text message. And Seokjin picks up his phone to check who it is.

**Mom:** How’d your finals go? Will you have time to come back home before the new term?

Seokjin smiles, immersed in typing out an essay in response to his mother’s message.

\--

“Hello?” Hyosang calls into the apartment, having returned home early due to his friends bailing. “Anybody home?”

All is silent.

Hyosang drops his keys onto the coffee table, making his way for the bedroom to change into his worn out pair of t-shirt and favorite sweat pants.

He sighs, rolling out the kinks in his shoulders as he makes his way for the room. and he pauses at the door, eyes wide as he comes across a little bit a lot of bare skin, still glistening with beads of water rolling down the back.

Seokjin stretches up to pull his shirt over his head, the fabric clinging to his still wet skin. And Hyosang has to fight to press down the urge to choke.

“Hey, you’re back early,” Seokjin turns to find Hyosang standing by the door, fingers digging into the doorframe. “You okay?” he asks in concern. “You look kind of pale.”

“Uh, yeah,” Hyosang coughs awkwardly to clear his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just…”

Seokjin blinks curiously.

“I uh,” Hyosang inhales heavily through his nose. “They bailed. So I just came home.”

“Sorry man,” Seokjin wrinkles his nose apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hyosang sighs, shaking his head as Seokjin claps him on the shoulder on his way out of the room. Hyosang stands there, frozen, for the next few minutes, just trying to clear his jumbled thoughts.

Thirty minutes later, Hyosang can still feel Seokjin’s hand weighing warm and firm on his shoulder.

\--

_And the elephant explodes._

\--

Namjoon can’t sleep.

It’s just one of those nights, he supposes. So giving it up as a lost cause, Namjoon quietly slips out of his bed, padding through the dark, silent apartment as he makes his way for the door.

On the way out, Namjoon picks up the communal pack of cigarettes and lighter from the television top. Maybe it’ll help soothe whatever it is that won’t let him be granted a good night’s sleep.

Namjoon settles down on the first step, popping open the carton and hanging a cigarette loosely in between his lips as he lights it up.

Inhaling deeply, Namjoon relishes in the bitter taste and acrid smoke coating his lungs on the way down, breathing it back out in a stream of gray clouds.

Namjoon leans against the stair rail, staring up into the sky and aimlessly counting the stars as he continues to work his way through his cigarette.

He’s so absorbed in his own thoughts that he doesn’t even realize he has company until Seokjin is already sitting beside him and plucking his half smoked stoge out of his mouth.

“Hey,” Namjoon smiles.

“Hey,” Seokjin replies, taking a drag. “Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon sighs, plucking the stoge back out of Seokjin’s figners. “You?”

“Same.”

The two pass the next few minutes in silence, passing the slowly shrinking cigarette back and forth.

“Kill it,” Namjoon passes on the small piece and watches as Seokjin brings it up to his mouth, lips curving plump and soft around the cylindrical surface. Namjoon can’t help but notice just how plush Seokjin’s lips look as they pucker in an “o” as he exhales, the smoke hovering around them in a gray cloud as it drifts up into the air.

Seokjin leans over Namjoon’s chest to flick the butt through the rails. And Namjoon can smell the faint whiff of Seokjin’s body wash mingled with the acrid smoke still clinging to his skin.

Seokjin watches as the little orange glow plummets down into the concrete below, slowly fizzling until it eventually dies out completely.

He turns his head to the side to find Namjoon staring at him intently.

“What?” Seokjin asks, straightening out again. But before he can actually sit back up, Namjoon’s warm palms press into his cheeks, pulling Seokjin in to mesh their lips together.

It’s a little different, kissing Namjoon completely sober.

As opposed to the complete whirlwind of chaos, a confusion of hands and tongues traveling every which way when drunk, Seokjin can now actually taste and feel every little thing.

Namjoon’s tongue warm and heavy in his mouth, sliding along his teeth as his own tongue moves in to lick into Namjoon’s mouth as well.

The taste of the cigarette they had just shared together, bitter and pungent.

Namjoon’s body heat spreading through the fabric of his shirt, enveloping Seokjin from the cold night air.

Seokjin is all but lying on top of Namjoon’s lap, body hinged uncomfortably at the waist.

“Back inside,” Seokjin breathes as he pulls away, heart racing and blood pumping with adrenaline. Sleep is now the last thing on his mind, body completely alert. “Let’s wake up Hyosang.”

Namjoon laughs, pecking Seokjin on the lips.

Seokjin scrambles up first, pulling Namjoon onto his feet and dragging him back into the apartment.

“Eager much?” Namjoon asks in amusement as Seokjin kicks the door shut and pulls him back towards their room.

“I’m a perfectly healthy male with needs,” Seokjin smiles, shoving Namjoon into the bottom bunk of Hyosang’s bed and straddling his waist.

“What the fuck,” Hyosang mumbles, voice rough with sleep. He tries to roll away onto his side, but Seokjin pulls him back.

“Good morning sunshine,” Seokjin smiles, leaning down to press his open mouth onto Hyosang’s, lips moving insistently to wake Hyosang up as he rolls down onto Namjoon’s hips, earning him a nice, deep moan.

“What the hell,” Hyosang gasps, still not fully comprehending. “It’s still fucking dark. It’s not even morning yet.”

“Mmhm,” Seokjin hums, patting Hyosang’s cheeks. “Sure it is. Time to wake up.”

“You’re not doing it right,” Namjoon’s breath shudders, fingers digging into Seokjin’s hips to push him off and toss him on the other side of Hyosang’s body.

“Okay cool guy,” Seokjin wheezes, vision swimming from his rapid change in altitude. “Let me see you try.”

Namjoon pushes himself into a seated position, pulling Hyosang’s swaying body up with him.

“What-“ Hyosang’s whine is cut off by Namjoon’s mouth covering his own, Namjoon’s hands cupping Hyosang’s face to hold him steady. Once Hyosang begins to respond, holding his own weight, Namjoon’s hands slide down Hyosang’s sides, pulling his roommate onto his lap and rocking his hips up.

Hyosang moans, now anything but sleepy as he clings to Namjoon’s shoulders.

“See, that’s how,” Namjoon smiles, hovering over Hyosang’s lips. And Seokjin would rather die than admit it, but he can’t help the arousal building from watching Hyosang and Namjoon making out, heat pooling in the pit of his stomach.

“Whatever,” Seokjin sits up as well, pushing away Namjoon’s cheek gently. “My turn,” Seokjin smiles, pulling Hyosang in for his own kiss while Namjoon continues to guide Hyosang’s hips to grind down into his lap.

“Oh my god. I still don’t know what’s going on,” Hyosang pulls away long enough for Namjoon to help him drag his shirt over his head, Seokjin and Namjoon following suit as pajamas are tossed haphazardly onto the floor. It takes a bit of work, as Hyosang’s bed isn’t much to begin with in terms of space, but they manage.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hyosang breathes, pushing away from Namjoon’s chest. “Why are we doing this on _my bed_? Why mine?”

“Spur of the moment,” Seokjin replies, pressing Hyosang down onto the mattress and maneuvering in between Namjoon’s body to crawl on top of Hyosang.

_“Why mine?”_

“Just shut up,” Seokjin leans down to kiss him again, grinding down onto his hips. The friction of their cocks sliding against each other has Hyosang moaning into Seokjin’s mouth, rutting up for more.

Namjoon takes this time to climb out of the bed, making his way for his sock drawer to dig around for his lube and condoms. Upon finding his designated object, Namjoon climbs back onto the bed, settling himself on his knees in between Seokjin’s and Hyosang’s thighs.

Namjoon considers for a moment asking how they should go about this order of business. But he shrugs anyways, uncapping the lube and squirting a good amount onto his palm.

Seokjin doesn’t even notice as Namjoon gently lifts him by the hips onto his knees, so thoroughly engrossed in mapping out the inner cavities of Hyosang’s mouth. Seokjin jumps in surprise as something cold and wet makes contact with the curve of his ass, sliding all the way down his crack to tease along his puckered hole.

Seokjin’s eyes flutter shut, burying his forehead into Hyosang’s shoulder as the pad of Namjoon’s finger draws circles around his rim before slowly pressing in.

Hyosang massages his hands up and down Seokjin’s sides as Namjoon works him open, twisting and scissoring one slick finger at a time until he’s three knuckles deep.

Namjoon leans over to place a kiss on Seokjin’s shoulder as his fingers fuck into his hole, Seokjin biting down on his lip and breathing heavily through his nose.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Seokjin pants, desperately pressing back into Namjoon’s hand.

“You, scoot up,” Seokjin orders. And Hyosang obeys, wiggling up the bed until he’s able to sit up with legs spread on either side of Seokjin’s head.

Seokjin lifts himself onto one elbow, wrapping his other hand around the base of Hyosang’s cock. And Hyosang’s heels dig into the mattress, thighs spreading wider as Seokjin’s hand begins to work into a rhythm up and down his length, thumb rubbing over the slit where precum is already glistening in the pale light cast by the moon.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Namjoon slides his fingers out, tearing open a condom packet and rolling it on himself. He takes his time slathering himself with enough lube, giving Seokjin time to play around with Hyosang before repositioning himself and encasing Seokjin’s hips with his hands to hold him steady.

“Go,” Seokjin replies immediately, impatiently, as he glances up at Hyosang, the only warning he gives before leaning down to lick around the crown of Hyosang’s cock.

Hyosang’s hands automatically curl into fistfuls of Seokjin’s hair, head falling back as more and more of his heated flesh disappear behind Seokjin’s lips.

Namjoon gives Seokjin just enough time to work up some kind of rhythm, head bobbing up and down, before aligning himself with Seokjin’s hole, slowly pushing in passed the resistant ring of muscle until his hips are pressed flush against Seokjin’s ass.

Seokjin moans deep in his throat, the vibrations taking Hyosang by surprise. His hips rock up into Seokjin’s mouth, fingers tightening into his hair. Seokjin tries to relax his muscles as Hyosang slips in just a little bit deeper, the tip of his cock hitting against the back of his throat.

Namjoon slides out just a bit, rocking back in with hands holding Seokjin’s hips firmly in place.

Seokjin’s mouth would fall open, if it wasn’t already so full. But as it were, the most he can do is let his eyes flutter shut, allowing Hyosang to fuck into his mouth on his own as Namjoon starts to work into his ass in earnest, the force of Namjoon’s thrusts pushing him further Into Hyosang’s dick.

It’s not very comfortable, the restricted limitation of Hyosang’s bunk.

Seokjin’s arms are cramping, and the top of Namjoon’s head keeps glancing off the frame of Seokjin’s upper bunk.

But it only serves to force them closer together, skin sliding against sweat slicked skin, sharing body heat trapped within the confined space.

And this thought alone has Namjoon driving in just a little bit harder, a little bit deeper, as Seokjin presses his lips together in a tight ring that drags against the skin of Hyosang’s cock, Hyosang rolling his hips into Seokjin’s mouth.

Namjoon’s hands slide up and down Seokjin’s sides, a lot more gentle in contrast to the frantic pace he’s setting up behind him.

Seokjin can’t breathe, the overstimulation of too much physical pleasure closing in from all sides.

It’s not very long before Seokjin comes first wholly untouched, shooting strings of white onto Hyosang’s sheets as his body tenses from the force of his orgasm hitting hard and out of nowhere.

With his climax, Seokjin’s muscles clench around Namjoon’s cock, dragging Namjoon down with him into mind numbing oblivion not long after.

Seokjin tries to catch his breath as Namjoon continues to thrust into him from behind, riding out his own orgasm. He fights against the physical urge to curl in on himself from his body’s oversensitivity, resettling himself onto his elbow that had slipped at some point and pumping his closed fist up and down the base of Hyosang’s cock where his mouth can’t quite reach.

Noticing how exhausted he looks, Hyosang gently pushes Seokjin off his dick, pulling him up by the chin for a kiss as he jerks himself off, quick and rough.

Seokjin whines as Namjoon slowly pulls out to remove the condom, legs giving way as his knees slide down the mattress. He reaches a shaky hand up to cup the back of Hyosang’s neck and swallow down his moans as Hyosang comes into his own hand.

Seokjin finally allows his body to shut down, collapsing onto Hyosang’s lap with his sweaty forehead pressed into Hyosang’s inner thigh.

Hyosang lightly scratches Seokjin’s scalp as he tries to catch his own breath, propping himself up on his other arm.

“My bed,” Hyosang whines, head rolling back to hang off his shoulders as he watches Namjoon’s silhouette climbing onto his own bed after tying off the condom and tossing it in the trash. “My blankets. _I just washed them_.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Namjoon teases, belly flopping on top of his sheets, totally ready to fall back asleep now.

“Nah, fuck this,” Hyosang huffs, unwinding himself from Seokjin’s body and bounding out of his bed to pounce on top of Namjoon’s back.

“What the hell,” Namjoon wheezes, trying to reach over his shoulder and shove Hyosang off.

“I’m sleeping right here,” Hyosang clings, tightening his thighs on either side of Namjoon to hold on.

“I want in,” Seokjin hums, pushing Namjoon and Hyosang to the side. “Budge up.”

“Oh my god,” Namjoon groans. _“Get off.“_

“Goodnight,” Hyosang sings, leaning over to press a soft kiss onto Seokjin’s, then Namjoon’s cheeks.

“Goodnight,” Seokjin replies, throwing an arm and leg over Hyosang and snuggling into Namjoon’s side.

Namjoon _would_ fight them off for his own personal space, and he knows he’s perfectly able to. But he’s tired, and warm, and actually kind of comfortable, disregarding the heavy weight pressing down on his lungs.

And before he knows it, Namjoon is falling fast asleep to the steady rhythm of Hyosang’s heart beating into his back, and Seokjin’s warm breath fanning out into the crook of his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a very special place in my heart for this OT3 ;u;


End file.
